


How I Long to Grow Old

by smileanddoitanyway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Everything Hurts, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sick Derek, Slow Burn, dad!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileanddoitanyway/pseuds/smileanddoitanyway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months after Kate moved out, Derek came down with some kind of bug. He ran a fever of 101.6 for nearly a week, coughed all the time, and could barely go from the bed to the bathroom to the kitchen due to fatigue.  “You need to go see a doctor,” Laura called through the bathroom door. Derek rolled his eyes, even though his sister couldn’t see him, and focused his attention on the rash that had appeared on his side. He used some of Laura’s moisturizer and told himself he’d go see Dr. Deaton in a few days if he wasn’t better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to ruin the story with all the tags posted right now. I'll update them as the chapters go up, though. Please feel free to comment. I'd love the feedback.

            Two months after Kate moved out, Derek came down with some kind of bug. He ran a fever of 101.6 for nearly a week, coughed all the time, and could barely go from the bed to the bathroom to the kitchen due to fatigue.  “You need to go see a doctor,” Laura called through the bathroom door. Derek rolled his eyes, even though his sister couldn’t see him, and focused his attention on the rash that had appeared on his side. He used some of Laura’s moisturizer and told himself he’d go see Dr. Deaton in a few days if he wasn’t better.

            Laura made him promise to go ahead and make the appointment. “You can always cancel, but they may be all booked up by the time you decide you want to go,” she told him in her “Older and Wiser Sibling” voice. He agreed automatically as he opened the door so she could finally get ready for her day. She’d told him she’d only be crashing for a week or two to help him get over Kate, but the lingerie mixed in with his t-shirts in the laundry indicated a need to upgrade from his one bathroom studio apartment. He bitched a lot, but he was actually glad his big sister seemed to be sticking around for a while.

            Six months after the break up saw Derek and Laura moving into a new apartment across from Beacon Hills Community College. “While you finish unloading your car, I’ll take mine to grab the last of the stuff from the old place,” Laura said. The Camaro had the heavy stuff that Laura didn’t want to carry up the stairs, so her offer to grab more of their stuff was closer to an effort to avoid sweating than it was trying to be helpful, but Derek really didn’t want to go back to the apartment he’d shared with Kate.

            “Sounds good. I’ll be down in a second,” Derek huffed back. He got winded a lot more easily then he used to. Laura’s patented “Break Up Brownies” may taste good, but they definitely take a toll. Laura patted him on the head as she breezed past his seat on the steps. The building had three floors, and the new apartment was on the second. Definitely not ideal, but Derek wouldn’t complain.

            It took him a little more than five minutes to get his breath back. It only took him thirty seconds after that to realize he left his keys inside and Laura locked the door behind her. “Dammit,” he swore under his breath. He plopped back onto the brand new welcome mat to wait for Laura’s return.

            “Locked out?” someone behind him asked. Derek tensed a little before he looked over his shoulder to find a guy who looked a lot like any other college kid that could be found in the complex. He stood about Derek’s height and had broad shoulders, but a narrow waist, close-cropped hair, and dark brown eyes. He held a couple of text books under one arm and a cell phone in his other hand. “Want me to call maintenance? I’m guessing if you don’t have your keys, your phone’s probably inside too.”

            Derek simply stared at the stranger for a beat. “That’s ok. My sister should be back in a few minutes,” he said, slowly.

            The guy got a sudden light in his eyes and grinned sheepishly. “Great! That was your sister with you before, not…great! I haven’t seen you around here before.” The kid could talk faster than Derek could process.

            “I’m moving in,” Derek said.

            The kid laughed a little nervously before he stuck his hand out and replied, “Right, duh. I’m Stiles. Uh, Stiles Stilinski. I live right above you.” Stiles’ smile didn’t slip a watt at his new neighbor’s growled ‘Derek.’ Instead, he took it in stride and started talking about the apartments, the tenants, the management, and the cleanliness of the pool. Usually Derek hated any kind of small talk, but Stiles seemed genuine in his desire to share potentially helpful information. He used his hands in sweeping gestures to enhance his points. Derek noticed that Stiles’ fingers were long and thin with no calluses or blemishes. He focused back on the conversation just as Stiles explained his propensity for unintentional noise. “And if it ever sounds like a herd of elephants above you, I’m sorry. Just beat a broom against the floorboards and holler for me to be quiet and I will do my best.”

            “We’re not a 93 year old blue hairs!” Laura yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Stiles stared as Derek’s sister climbed the stairs in record time and shoved her hand in his face. “Hi, I’m Laura Hale.”

            Another giant smile. “Stiles,” he answered with a laugh. “And based on this handshake, I wouldn’t put you a day past eighty-six!”

            Stiles and Laura laughed and chatted for a few more seconds before Stiles’ cellphone started playing CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising.” “Don’t judge me,” he told them in answer to their raised eyebrows. “Crap, yeah I’ll be there soon. Got caught up talking to my new neighbors.” He winked at Derek, which made Derek offer a small smile in return. They stared at each other until whoever was on the other end of Stiles’ phone call realized Stiles wasn’t paying attention. A loud shout pulled Stiles back to the conversation. “Sorry, dad,” he winced. “Yeah. No, we are going to have a healthy dinner. If I get there and there is any evidence of unapproved-I bet I will!” He hung up the phone and shouted something about Sheriffs and curly fries as he waved goodbye and bolted down the stairs into a Jeep that was incredibly clean, but obviously old and battered. It sputtered to life after a few false starts and made its way toward the road.

            Laura and Derek watched it roll down the hill and out of sight. Derek let himself enjoy the moment before bracing himself for Laura’s reaction. “Look at you making friends,” she grinned. Derek just frowned at her and stuck out his tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a snapshot of a fun night with Laura, Derek, and Stiles

Surprisingly enough, it looked like Derek _had_ made a friend. Stiles always stopped to chat when they ran into each other on the stairs (he learned that Stiles was about to graduate from BHCC), he invited both Derek and Laura out to watch fireworks on the fourth of July (Laura got so drunk she thought she was Thor, trapped in a thunderstorm when the fireworks started), he asked them to check his mailbox when he went out of town for a few days every month (He subscribed to Sports Illustrated and Psychology Today). It got easier and easier for Derek to forget about long blonde hair, tan skin, and green eyes. Instead, he saw pale skin dotted with moles, lean muscle, and a quick smile.

“Have you hit that yet?” Laura asked one night around a spoonful of the Breakfast Bash ice cream she had her old roommate from New York ship her every few weeks. Derek froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth, the a bit of pancake from the stolen bite already starting to drop off the edge. His eyes bugged out a little and a strangled sound ripped its way out of his throat. They were sitting on the couch watching some reality show Laura loved and Derek pretended to hate, but at her brother’s expression of sheer terror, Laura laughed so hard she rolled onto the floor. Her face turned red and a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. Derek glowered and ate the rest of the bowl of ice cream out of spite.

“I hate you,” he mumbled around a particularly large mouthful, but that only served to set her off again.

A knock sounded at the door, so Derek stalked across the living room to answer it, sure it was the courtesy officer with a warning about noise complaints. He pulled the door open, apology on his lips, but instead of a rent-a-cop with a 70’s porno mustache, Stiles stood in the doorway with a six-pack of beer and a grin. “I heard howling and I figured we could have a full-moon party tonight!”

Laura sat up and shot Stiles a dirty look. “Howling?”

Stiles shrugged. “What would you call it?” he asked Derek.

“Concrete proof of certifiable insanity?” Derek said as he turned to smirk at his sister. She raised her eyebrows and gave them both an open-mouth smile before raising two middle fingers in their direction.

“Don’t be like that, my lupine love,” Stiles wheedled. He threw himself on the couch, and landed with his upper body sprawled across Laura’s lap. She yelped, but otherwise ignored him. Derek watched them with a soft, warm feeling pressing at his heart. “Come on, if I have to I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once, I could do it.” Laura let out an annoyed scoff and kicked her legs until one foot connected with Stiles’ hip. “You are a cruel mistress,” he groaned, rolling off the couch.

“You’re an idiot,” she replied.

“You’re both idiots,” Derek told them. He walked over to pick up the empty bowl from the coffee table, but was forcibly dragged to the couch where he ended up facedown in the cushions with Stiles sitting on his legs and Laura sitting on the middle of his back. “I hate you both,” he mumbled into the cushion. Stiles and Laura just giggled and high-fived.

At some point Derek had lost control of his life, but he couldn’t quite determine exactly when that was. Sudden revelation hit when Stiles wiggled around to grab at the six-pack, abandoned on the coffee table just out of reach, and ended up using Derek’s ass like armrest. He twisted his neck around as much as possible to try and see what, exactly, Stiles was doing back there. When Laura managed to catch his eye, she raised one brow that asked about nine different questions that Derek desperately didn’t want to answer. He laid his head back down and acted like the girl crying on the television was the most fascinating person he’d ever seen. “So did you charm the snake?” Laura asked Stiles once it became clear that Derek was pretending to be anywhere else.

“I already did that today. Twice,” Stiles answered distractedly. He was completely focused on trying to twist off the top of one of his beers. Derek turned his face to hide the slight upturn of his lips and Laura bit her lip viciously to contain herself.

“I was talking about the boa. That you fed mice?” Stiles looked up at Laura, confused. After a second he realized what he said and the tips of his ears turned red. “It’s…I mean…”

“Don’t, Stiles,” Derek groaned. “You’ll only make it worse.” Stiles’ blush bled across his cheeks while Laura burst into uncontrollable giggles again.

“You know, sometimes I really begin to question this ‘friendship,’” he said, framing “friendship” with finger quotes. Laura wrapped her arms around Stiles’ shoulders and squeezed him until he begged for air, then switched the channel on the TV to “An American Werewolf in London.” She and Stiles howled at random points during the movie until eventually even Derek joined in, going as far as laughing with the other two when they did end up getting a warning for several noise violations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory request for comments and kudos!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next week continued with a black cloud hovering over Derek’s head.

The Hales had lived in their apartment for six months when Derek noticed that his jeans, once skin tight, were barely staying up without a belt. “Derek, you need a sandwich,” Laura told him every time she saw him, dragging the word ‘sandwich’ out in a bad impression of their grandmother’s upstate New York accent. Grandma Hale thought anyone with a waist smaller than 54 inches was in dire straits. “You’re nothing but bones and hair,” she’d say to anyone who happened to wander into the kitchen the same time she was there as she plunked an entire lasagna in front of them. Grandpa Hale died of a heart attack when he was 65, but there had been a smile on his face when he went.

Stiles mentioned the weight loss too when they went hiking through the Beacon Hills Preserve one weekend. The early October weather was unseasonably warm, but a nearly constant breeze kept any discomfort away. The news claimed it would be the last nice weekend before the winter chill would roll in. They had been going hiking together since Stiles actually ran into Derek the first time he’d ventured out to try and get back in shape. (Laura swore she would stop making Break Up Brownies. When he’d come home one day to the smell of chocolate wafting through the kitchen, she explained that New Apartment Brownies were totally different.) “There is no way you are actually that far behind me!” Stiles yelled from the top of a hill. He watched Derek pant and gasp at about the halfway point and continued to shout insults until his victim flipped him off. “It doesn’t count if you can’t even gasp out a comeback!”

“You…fucker…” Derek wheezed. Stiles laughed, but stopped making fun while he sat and waited for Derek to finish the climb.

“You are the sweatiest sweater to ever sweat,” he said with a delicately wrinkled nose once Derek plopped down beside him.

“I don’t sweat, I glisten,” Derek shot back once he caught his breath. He lifted the bottom of his t-shirt to mop at his face and hair. “So, I have an interview at- what?” Stiles was staring at the bit of stomach Derek still had on display. His brows were high and his mouth hung open a little, but his eyes were pinched at the corners. It was unusual to see Stiles looking at Derek’s body with fear rather than admiration. Desire, sometimes, Derek told himself.

“Just…you’re almost as skinny as I am, dude. No more He-man muscles.” He squeezed the bicep closest to him, joking still, but Derek saw the pinched face get worse when Stiles realized he could wrap his hand around Derek’s arm.

Derek frowned. “I guess I haven’t been eating much recently,” he muttered. Stiles didn’t comment when Derek tugged his shirt back down to make sure it didn’t ride up at all. He had gotten a job at a small garage a few miles away from the apartment. There were only two other mechanics- Isaac Lahey and Vernon “Call Me Boyd” Boyd- so he worked through his lunch break more often than not. The work made him tired and sore, but it was nice to get his hands dirty. He didn’t need anybody nagging him.

 

The next week continued with a black cloud hovering over Derek’s head. He forgot to tighten a bolt on a customer’s wheel that could have resulted in a pretty serious accident if she hadn’t called the garage about a weird sound just a few minutes after she left. Boyd chewed him out for forty-five minutes. The next day he couldn’t read a work order because his vision kept fuzzing around the edges for no reason. “I hate allergies, too,” Stiles said when he noticed Derek rubbing his eyes during the baseball game he’d come up to watch. Derek grunted something vaguely affirmative, but he couldn’t remember anything he was allergic to. By Thursday, Boyd and Isaac both had enough of trying to find the paperwork Derek kept misplacing, so they sent him home early.

“You look like shit, man,” Isaac told him. “Go home, get over whatever bug you’ve got, and you can handle every oil change that comes through until we trust you again. Sound good?” He smiled to keep the sting from his words, but Derek knew he was mad.

When he pulled into the apartment’s parking lot, he heard a coughing sound coming from nearby that sounded an awful lot like a blue Jeep giving up on ever running again. “No, no, no…” its owner chanted under his breath as he continued to try and turn the key. The grinding and sputtering coming from the bowels of the engine set Derek’s teeth on edge.

He kicked open the Camaro’s door and stomped toward the Jeep’s usual space. When he got there, he reached through Stiles’ open window to slap at the hand twisting the ignition. “For the love of God, stop,” he growled.

Stiles startled, but matched Derek’s glare with one of his own. “You want to back up there, buddy?” he snapped.

“You’re piece of junk is not going to start, Stiles. The starter is worn out, and you continuing to turn the key is causing more damage to some very expensive parts.”

“Fuck.” Stiles’ voice cracked on the curse and his hands flew up to cover his face. There was a fine tremor running through his whole body that made it seem like his skin was about to vibrate off. His breathing got faster and shallower, and Derek realized Stiles was panicking.

He had no idea how to handle a Stiles that wasn’t completely in control of himself, and Derek realized at least part of it was his fault. “Hey, hey. I can fix it. It’ll just take a few minutes…I’m calling the shop to bring me the part I need, and the car will start right up.” He called the shop expecting Isaac to answer, but the voice at the other end of the phone was unfamiliar to Derek. Whoever it was listened to Derek’s instructions and told him he’d be there in ten minutes.

For fifteen minutes Stiles struggled to get himself under control while Derek glared toward the main road trying to will the new kid to appear. Ten minutes his ass. “So…I can’t wait to hear your apology,” Stiles croaked from the driver’s seat. His voice was a little soft, but there was no mistaking the steel running through the words.

“Excuse me?” Derek asked through gritted teeth. He felt his nostrils flaring and his hands curled into fists.

Stiles made eye contact before he spoke. “Apology. You got any idea what you want to say? Go ahead, I’ll let you have a trial run.” He waved in an invitation, sarcastic as it was, before he crossed his arms over his chest. It was obvious Stiles was dead serious, but Derek was flabbergasted. He stared at Stiles while he tried to figure out if he was pissed, impressed, confused, or just fucking done. As usual, Stiles spoke before Derek decided. “Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?” More staring. “Whatever. How about you repeat after me? Gosh Stiles, I am ever so sorry I assaulted you in the parking lot with no provocation whatsoever. I’m just an uncultured asshole without thought or care to the well being of others if my delicate sensibilities are offended in any way.”

The stubborn jut of his jaw reminded Derek of someone else, of Kate, just enough that he lost any semblance of reason. “How about I did nothing wrong and you need to take care of the stuff you’re responsible for, instead of ruining it!” he shouted.

The thrill of seeing Stiles with his mouth agape, speechless, was fleeting when all expression emptied from the college student’s face. Completely shut down, Stiles jumped out of the Jeep and grabbed a bike from the rack in front of their building. “Fuck you,” Stiles spat. A white pickup truck coming over the crest of the hill almost hit the bike, but Stiles maneuvered just out of the way and kicked the door as he pedaled past.

“What a dick, I didn’t even see him!” A blonde kid about Stiles’ age poked his head out of the cab of the truck. Derek snarled at the guy. “Whoa, man. I brought the new starter for you. A customer came in right after we hung up, so taking care of her made me late. Don’t bite my head off because you had a lover’s spat.” Rather than answer, Derek just snatched the part and the tools he needed out of the truck. Stiles’ keys still dangled from the ignition, not that he really needed them to get into the junker. He needed to block everything else, and just do one fucking thing correctly. “I’m Jackson Whittemore, by the way.” Derek kept working. The blonde- Jackson- eventually drove off in a huff.

The job took Derek twice as long as it should have because his vision kept blurring and he kept confusing what wires went where. He’d been a mechanic since he was seventeen years old; there was no reason for a fucking starter to be giving him as much trouble as it was. “Just like your driver. Fuck!” His shoulder exploded in pain. He saw stars dance across his sight. In order to try and get a better angle, he’d twisted in the space offered by the driver’s side foot well, but his shoulder got caught on the seat and wrenched out of place. Laura found him nearly an hour later curled up on the asphalt next the front tire.

 

Laura exercised her power as older sister to force Derek to go to the hospital. He swore up and down that all he needed was an icepack and some ibuprofen, but she ignored his protests. When he got stubborn she used his bad shoulder to push him into the passenger seat of his own car. “I don’t know why you’re being such a pain in the ass,” she hissed at him. Derek stared resolutely out the window. Everything blurred into green and gray smudges that he didn’t have to decipher.

The emergency room was fairly empty, but it still took nearly two hours for Derek to be seen. He cursed under his breath the whole time and Laura acted like he wasn’t there. “Alright, Mr. Hale, we need to run a few tests- all standard procedure. We already drew some blood, but still need to do a urine test, then we’ll do an x-ray to determine the extent of the damage to your shoulder.”

“Whatever,” Derek replied. He was too exhausted to deal with all this.

 “Ok, well come with me and we’ll get your x-rays. Ms. Hale, you can wait here.” Laura nodded stiffly.

 

It was about halfway through exchanging his t-shirt for a scrubs top that Derek realized he was being watched. The curtain around his bed twitched just a little every minute or so. Once he noticed, he couldn’t stop noticing. He rubbed his eyes to try and get a clearer look at his spectator, but where a person’s eyes would normally be, there was nothing that he could see.

“Who’s watching me?” he called. At first nothing happened, but after a minute, a sneaker squeaked against the floor and a child crept into view with eyes downcast. She was about six years old with long blonde hair and pale skin. Silence stretched between them for several seconds before she chanced a glance up and Derek looked into eerily familiar brown eyes.

Feeling like he’d been punched, Derek asked, “Who are you?”

The little girl twisted the hem of her shirt between her tiny hands and took a deep breath. “My name is Erica Reyes and I have seizures sometimes when I don’t take my medicine and I’m in kindergarten at Beacon Hills Elementary and my mommy and daddy don’t live together even though they love me very much and-“

Erica was interrupted by a flurry of flailing limbs and rapid speech. “Holy God, Erica, one heart attack a day for Daddy, ok?” Stiles scooped the little blonde and propped her against his hip before addressing the poor guy his daughter had stumbled upon. “Look man, I’m sorry about her. She loves wandering… the… hospital.” Stiles looked like a deer in headlights and Derek knew he didn’t look much better.

“She’s cute,” Derek finally said once he found his voice.

Stiles seemed suddenly fascinated with the poster above the bed on the only solid wall that advertised the latest advances in menopause relief. He cleared his throat before he asked, “What happened? You ok?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I messed up my shoulder while fixing the Jeep. Laura made me come here.”

“You fixed the Jeep?”

Derek nodded. “I told you I would.”

“Thanks. So…you need x-rays?” Making sure he had a firm grip on his daughter, Stiles leaned forward to inspect Derek’s injury. Erica started making crazy faces when she ended up in Derek’s space. She squealed and giggled when he stuck his tongue out at her. Stiles jumped back and looked between Erica and Derek. The matching innocent expressions made him very suspicious.

“I just overextended it,” Derek finally answered. “Maybe tore some cartilage, but I’m not here for surgery, so there’s nothing they can do that I can’t at home.”

“You should still get it looked at. Just in case. Right, baby?” Stiles cooed. It was obviously a habitual question, not a conscious one, because he looked down and away with burning cheeks right away.

Erica answered anyway. “I don’t think so. He needs some chicken noodle soup and Tylenol. The bubble gum kind. But you have to drink it all without complaining, or no cookies after.” Even Derek had to smile at the child’s decisive tone. “Daddy, can I tell him something?” She gripped Stiles’ cheeks and squished them together, which made them all laugh. Derek leaned forward at Erica’s beckoning so she could whisper in his ear. Luckily, he was able to catch the bundle of energy that was Erica when she launched herself from her father’s grip into Derek’s arms. He heard Stiles mutter ‘I said one heart attack,’ but most of his attention was on Erica. She cupped her hand around his ear and whispered, “The bubble gum kind is yucky, so make sure you only _pretend_ to drink it all.” A wicked grin stretched Erica’s face wide, and Derek couldn’t help the belly laugh that tumbled out of him.

“I’ll remember that,” he told her.

“Come on, Cat Woman,” Stiles said. “Time to go home. Grandpa has been worried all day. You know what that means.”

“Pancakes!” Erica shrieked. Derek and Stiles flinched and checked to make sure the screens of their phones hadn’t cracked.

Derek stood and lifted Erica under the arms to help Stiles gather her up. They ended up very close together, breathing the same air, before Derek passed Erica over. “Talk tonight,” he ordered.

“Oh yes, Master. Whatever you say, Master,” Stiles replied with as theatrical a bow as he could manage. Derek waited for Stiles to meet his gaze again. When he did, Derek maintained eye contact until Stiles coughed uncomfortably and inclined his head, just a little. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the feedback! Please don't hesitate to leave more!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has some 'splaining to do

Derek could tell his shoulder would hurt like a bitch, but it wasn’t the first time he’d overextended it. “Your shoulder could have serious, permanent damage, but we’ll never know now since you ignored the people who spent hundreds of thousands of dollars over fifteen years to know when medical intervention is necessary!” Laura bit out in the car. Instead of answering, Derek leaned against the passenger door. The window was cool against his forehead. It felt good against the encroaching headache. Laura either didn't notice or didn't care. “And you’re obviously really sick! You should have told him everything so he could cure whatever this is. Look at how thin you are! And you’re tired all the time, you have that rash on your back- don’t think I haven’t noticed it not going away-“

            Derek interrupted her rant. “Stiles has a kid.” Laura’s mouth dropped open and she looked over at the passenger seat. The car started to drift over the double yellow. “Eyes on the road,” he reminded her. She snapped her jaw shut with an audible click, yanked the car back onto the correct side of the road, and stared out the windshield.

            “Boy or girl?” she finally managed.

            “Girl.”

            “How old?”

            “Five or six. She’s in kindergarten.” Derek couldn’t help a small grin when he remembered the kid’s introduction.

            “Name?”

            “Erica.”

            “The mother?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Wow…” Laura exhaled.

            The only thing Derek could think to respond with was, “yeah.”

 

            Around nine o’clock Stiles knocked on Derek’s apartment door. He looked sheepish when Laura opened up, but she didn’t say anything. Whatever was happening, she knew it was between Stiles and Derek. She left the front door open, leaving Stiles shifting anxiously from foot to foot, and knocked on Derek’s bedroom door to wake him up- he could barely keep his eyes open once they got home from the hospital. It took a good five minutes or so for Derek to stumble into the living room and into Stiles’ line of sight. The rumpled, bedraggled look didn’t hinder Derek’s effect on Stiles, though. “You, uh…” Stiles cleared his throat. Derek jerked his head up, almost like he didn’t know Stiles was there. Stiles started again. “You wanted to talk?” Derek nodded. Stiles tried to guess his neighbor’s-friend’s?- mood, but Derek was blank faced. It worried Stiles a little. “Want to come upstairs?” Rather than replying, Derek walked past Stiles and made his way up the steps.

            Usually the two of them sat on Stiles’ beat up leather couch he’d found on the side of the road a few years ago, but Derek decided to risk his life by perching on a bar stool that had seen its better days about thirty years earlier. “So… How ‘bout them Mets?” Stiles tried to joke. He even clapped Derek on the shoulder, but the glare he received had him pulling his hand back immediately while saying, “I’m taking my hand off.” Derek just continued to glare. It only took a few breaths for Stiles to fold. “Ok, look, I have a kid. Lots of people have kids!”

            That got Derek’s attention. “That’s what you’re going with? ‘Lots of people have kids’?” Stiles avoided eye contact, bit his lip, and shrugged, but remained silent. “I thought we were…friends,” Derek stuttered over the word. “Or at least friendly enough to talk about whether or not we were teen parents!”

            “It’s complicated!” Stiles protested.

            Derek huffed a laugh, an ugly, hurt sound. “Let’s just blow past this one and you can pull the next excuse out of your ass.”

            “What do you want me to say, Derek?” Stiles asked. He held his hands by his side, palms facing outward, expression flickering from anger to fear to regret.

            “Tell me the truth. All of it,” Derek demanded.

            “I can do that,” Stiles replied. “It’s kind of a long story, so you probably want to get comfortable on the couch.” He offered a small, apologetic smile while he patted the empty cushion next to him. It took a minute, but when Derek moved onto the sun-bleached leather, Stiles counted it as a win.

 

            He told Derek about his truly epic crush on a redhead that was in his class from third grade through to graduation. Derek ignored the burning sensation in his gut that felt a lot like jealousy. Lydia was perfect in Stiles’ eyes. She was beautiful, smart, confident, and manipulative. Her boyfriend, Jackson, dumped her when they were sophomores in high school because he’d caught the scent of a new girl. Stiles swore Lydia was genuinely heartbroken, despite her cold, mean-girl appearance. “She was crying in her car by herself, Derek,” Stiles said.

            Lydia asked him to ask her to a formal dance so Jackson could see what he was missing. “She looked like a runway model.” She'd worn a silver dress and red lipstick that stained the collar of Stiles' suit. Her hair had been curled perfectly to tumble over her shoulders and down her back. Their classmates had whispered to each other about Lydia's choice of a date, wondering what made Stiles so special. He knew the answer: nothing. That night, they both drank a little too much- Stiles because he was so nervous, Lydia because Jackson had thrown some mean comment her way. It had hit its mark and shook Lydia's confidence to the core. Stiles lost his virginity in his old Coach’s office, and then held Lydia as she cried.

            Two months later, he held her again while she gripped three different pregnancy tests in her hand and sobbed into his shoulder. The teenagers had done what was expected of them- Stiles proposed and Lydia said yes. They went to birthing classes together, he rubbed her feet, and they took a thousand pregnancy photos. Her parents were too busy blaming each other to support their daughter, so she moved into the Sheriff's house with Stiles. John Stilinski doted on Lydia almost as much as his son did. "He was definitely pissed," Stiles remembered. "But he was so excited for a grandkid. Seriously, he was built to be a grandpa."

            When Lydia was eight months along, however, she called off the wedding, packed up, and moved out of Stiles' house. She told Stiles she wasn’t going to end up shackled to someone in her hometown just because his sperm happened to find a viable egg. She was going to win the Fields Medal and nothing was going to stop her. “We were never supposed to be together,” Stiles mumbled with a one-shouldered shrug. It was hard to tell exactly what he was feeling, but Derek could guess it was bittersweet.

            Erica’s birth had been a difficult one. She tried to enter the world feet-first with an umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. “She actually died for a minute,” Stiles whispered. There was no proof, but Stiles thought that was why Erica had seizures. When she had come out, she was blue and silent. Lydia had already been crying because of the pain, but the tears doubled when five nurses gathered around her silent newborn. "She told me to follow them if they took her away." Stiles and Lydia both started bawling when Erica's first shriek ripped through the quiet. Despite her dramatic entrance, Erica had been a happy baby. She was still a happy kid. Usually Stiles stayed with his dad when Erica was with him since his dad’s was a real house with a real yard, and the Sheriff loved getting to spend time with his granddaughter.

            “Lydia lives about an hour away now. She graduated from UCLA like, two and a half years ago. I’m not kidding about how smart she is,” Stiles said. His words were tinged with a mix of awe and anger. “She got married last year to some insurance adjuster or something. He adopted Erica to make school easier for her and stuff. And easier for me, I guess. Gotta get that college experience.” Stiles’ smile was watery around the edges.

            “So you don’t see her?” Derek asked.

            “Not very often, no. Lydia doesn’t exactly keep her away from me, but… she makes good points about consistency and I don’t want to hurt my daughter. Don’t want to ruin her.”

            Derek’s words from earlier suddenly echoed in his ears. _You need to take care of the stuff you’re responsible for, instead of ruining it!_ “Hey, when I said that earlier, I didn’t-“

            “I know,” Stiles interrupted. He waved off Derek’s words. “I just worry whenever something happens, especially when I’m not there. I don’t want Lydia to think she can’t trust me or my dad.”

            The two men sat in silence for a while, both locked inside their own thoughts. “Thank you for telling me,” Derek finally said. Stiles just nodded without meeting Derek’s eyes.

            “Do you want to… I mean, you don’t live that far, obviously… it is late, though, and I… Uh, what I’m trying to say-”

            “Hey Stiles, can I stay here tonight?” Derek interjected. Stiles’ discomfort was certainly amusing, but he deserved a night without mocking after his day. “My shoulder hurts and I don’t want to risk falling down the stairs.” The pink tinge to Stiles’ ears let Derek know he still heard the jokes, even though they were left unsaid.

            So Stiles, of course, had to try and one-up his opposition. “That’s fine. There should be plenty of room on my bed, as long as we cuddle.” He made kissy faces at Derek, paired with obnoxious lip smacking sounds.

            Unperturbed, Derek strode to the bedroom and tossed over his shoulder, “Great! But I call big spoon.”

            Stiles almost tripped over his own feet as he yelled out, “Like hell you do! I’m going to spoon the shit out of you!”

 

            Laura rolled her eyes at Stiles’ bizarre threat. She'd opened the porch door to try and hear the exchange upstairs. Older siblings are biologically obligated to spy on younger siblings. She figured the two of them couldn't stay mad at each other, but it was nice to know. In order to remain psychologically unscarred, as well as preserve a little bit of Stiles' modesty, she shut the porch door and viciously ignored that voice in the back of her mind that told her the other shoe was about to drop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long! I was in a car accident about 6 weeks ago and I've been working on some PT as well as going to summer classes. 
> 
> Hopefully I'll have the last chapter (maybe two?) up soon. 
> 
> Please leave kudos/comments! They are seriously inspiring and make my insides gooey.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles looked down at his lap, made a face, then nodded. “You wanna hang out today?” he asked while he stripped down.
> 
> “Nah, I’m good,” Derek answered.

Derek woke up slowly, in stages. The first thing he became aware of was his shoulder throbbing sullenly. It hurt, but in a dull, achy way that he worked hard to ignore. Next, he realized the light whistling noise was coming from the floor on the other side of the bed. Finally, a strange pressure on his lower abdomen made him very aware of his full bladder. When he tried to roll out of bed, however, he discovered the strange pressure was actually Stiles’ legs across his hips. Rather than sleeping the way most people, like Derek, did, Stiles had managed to lay his lower body across the bed, but his upper body pressed into the floor.

Derek rolled his eyes and pushed the gangly limbs off of him, readjusted his t-shirt and boxers and hid his grin at Stiles’ indignant squawk as he wandered toward the bathroom.

“You’re a dick,” Stiles yawned when Derek returned. He’d righted himself, now reclining against the headboard. Derek tried to shrug, but winced at the sharp pain of his shoulder’s protest. “Totally deserved that,” Stiles told him.

“I would have expected more sympathy from you since this happened while I fixed your car,” Derek replied drily.

“I’m working too hard on teaching Erica gratitude and humility to focus on showing it myself,” said Stiles, all false-apology.

“Oh, ok,” huffed Derek, teasing. He climbed back onto the bed and straddled Stiles’ lap. It was so easy for Stiles to just rest his hands on Derek’s hips. They grinned at each other like idiots for a handful of seconds before Derek started leaning in toward Stiles. He stopped with his lips a breath away from Stiles’. When their eyes met he asked, “Are we good?”

Stiles’ smile softened. He nodded slowly, making sure his lips skimmed across Derek’s. They hadn’t actually done anything the night before, opting to sleep away the stress and emotional baggage of the day. This would be their first kiss and he wanted it so badly. But, the build-up, the anticipation, was making his heart beat faster and his stomach churn deliciously.

Derek smiled at the tease, pleasantly surprised by Stiles’ impulse control. He decided to see how long Stiles could keep from going for a real kiss. “You’re a dick,” Stiles repeated when he figured out Derek wasn’t going to close the distance between them. Then he pressed forward.

Feeling Stiles’ lips against his was almost too much for Derek. They were just exploring the sensation, but it was already ramping up from idle kisses to ones with filthy slides of tongue and vulgar moans, full of heat and intent. “Fuck,” Stiles panted against Derek’s mouth. Rather than reply, Derek laid one hand against Stiles’ neck and used his thumb to push Stiles’ chin up, and gripped the back of Stiles’ head to keep him in place while he licked and sucked at the tender column of Stiles’ throat. “Oh, _fuck_!” Derek grinned at Stiles’ breathless shout.

Stiles gripped Derek’s hips hard to hold him in place while he moved his own against him. “What do you want, Stiles?” Derek groaned.

“I-I…what do you mean?” At a time like this, Stiles could not be counted on for anything close to cognition.

“I mean,” Derek murmured between bites on Stiles’ collarbone. “Do you want to be on your hands and knees with me pounding into you-“ Stiles moaned, “-or do you want me on my back, legs in the air, screaming your name? Or do you want to choke on my cock?”

“That one, I want that one,” Stiles gasped. He pushed Derek back, allowed him a second to get comfortable, reclining against the pillows, and then ripped his boxers off like they’d offended him personally. Derek was so hard the head of his dick was already shiny and wet with precum. “I honestly think my mouth is actually watering,” Stiles slurred. Derek let out a low moan and jacked himself a couple of times. “Stop that.” Immediately, Derek took his hand off his dick. Stiles filed ‘follows direction well’ away for later.

He settled quickly between Derek’s spread legs and wrapped his hand around the base of his dick to hold it in place. “You look fucking perfect,” Derek breathed. He ran his hand through brown hair that was nearly long enough to grab onto, but not quite. Stiles flashed him a wicked smile and swallowed him all the way down. “Jesus fucking Christ!” shouted Derek. Stiles held him at the back of his throat and let some saliva drool past his lips. He lifted up and dragged his hand up at the same time so Derek’s cock was slick enough that bobbing his head would be easy.

The blowjob was sloppy and wet, just the way Derek liked them. Every time his dick hit the back of Stiles’ throat he saw stars. A few times, Stiles would pull off to lick and suck at Derek’s balls, which made Derek shout wordlessly. “Want to come on my face?” Stiles croaked after one particularly brutal jab to his throat.

Derek was too stunned to do anything but nod. He moved to the end of the bed so Stiles could kneel on the floor. “Don’t deserve you,” Derek panted once Stiles went back to trying to suck Derek’s brain out through his cock. Stiles moaned in response. The vibrations made Derek twist his hands in the sheets and try to gasp out a warning.

Either Stiles understood or had a sixth sense for orgasms because he pulled off and jacked Derek until ropes of come splashed across his chin, lips, and cheekbones.  Before he could clean the spunk off his face with a sheet, Derek pulled Stiles off the floor into a sloppy, exhausted exchange of tongues. It was weird to taste his own 

Stiles laughed uncomfortably. “I’m good,” he mumbled. Derek looked down and saw the telltale wet spot blooming across the front of Stiles’ boxers. He raised an eyebrow in question. “Don’t judge me,” Stiles replied hotly. “I just…really like giving head.”

“Definitely not judging.” Derek swallowed thickly before asking “Shower?”

Stiles looked down at his lap, made a face, then nodded. “You wanna hang out today?” he asked while he stripped down.

“Nah, I’m good,” Derek answered.

Stiles gaped at him until Derek couldn’t hide his grin any longer. “Dick!” Derek’s belly laugh was cut off by Stiles’ projectile underwear slapping him in the face. “Ha!”

 

“That was Lydia,” Stiles told Derek after he’d hung up his phone. They were lounging in Stiles’ bed still naked from their shower hours earlier. Neither had found much point in getting dressed again. Derek was drifting in and out of consciousness while Stiles read one of his giant textbooks.

“What did she want?” Derek asked as he stretched. He pretended not to see Stiles ogle him.

“Something at work exploded, so she has to stay late, and her husband is in Modesto or something for work.”

“Whoa, what?”

“What? Oh, the explosion? Not as rare as you’d hope for a government facility.” Derek’s eyes went wide. “No, but she wants me to pick up Erica from school. Maybe even have her spend the night.”

It sounded like great news to Derek, but Stiles was twisting the bedcovers nervously and biting his lip. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“I think so.” Something about the emphasis Stiles put on ‘I’ caught Derek’s attention.

“I think so too,” he told Stiles. He pulled one of Stiles’ hands out of the sheets and laced their fingers together.

“You do?” Derek nodded. Stiles beamed. “Great. Oh, but don’t say anything to Erica about this morning, ok?”

“You mean I shouldn’t tell the five year old her dad spent the morning with my cum dripping off his chin?”

“Sarcasm is not attractive, Mr. Hale,” Stiles admonished, but squeezed the hand he still held. They spent the rest of the time they had before picking up Stiles’ daughter good-naturedly snarking back and forth. Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d been quite so relaxed and happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Erica and Derek cuteness in this chapter. I just needed a little bit of adorable in my day today.

 When Erica saw Stiles and Derek standing outside the Camaro in the long line of cars outside the school, she let out an inhuman screech and sprinted across the crowded lawn toward them. She knocked over three kids and sent one father’s briefcase flying, papers cascading across the grass, on her journey. Derek was caught off guard, again, when she launched herself at him, rather than Stiles, but recovered quickly enough to stop them from falling into the road.

“Erica!” Stiles cried. “One, don’t hug strangers.”

“Hug?” huffed Derek from the ground. He was sprawled out with Erica sitting cross-legged on his chest. She giggled at him, but quickly schooled her features into an expression close to contrite when she saw Stiles’ glare.

“Tackle, whatever.” Stiles waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Two, don’t play near a road. Three, I’m your dad, so I get dibs on first hugs!” He scooped Erica into his arms and proceeded to tickle her as she laughed and squealed.

“Excuse me,” a woman wearing a very administrative pencil skirt and carrying a clipboard called from a short distance away. She waved and started walking toward the little group. Stiles, Derek, and Erica turned their attention to the newcomer. Derek noticed she was pretty, in her late twenties to early thirties, with long brown hair, and a hesitant, but genuine smile. Despite that, his gut went cold at the sight of her.

Erica leaned closer to whisper in Stiles’ ear. “That’s Ms. Blake,” she told him. “She just started this year, but everyone already loves her because they think she’s so cool.” Erica rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose.

Stiles glanced between the teacher and his daughter. “Why don’t you like her, Catwoman?”

Ms. Blake reached them before Erica could answer. “Hi, hello. Ha, sorry.” Ms. Blake’s smile grew a little when she made eye contact with Derek, but her attention centered on Stiles. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m really sorry, but this car doesn’t have a line number, so I need to make sure you’re allowed to take little Miss Reyes here.” Ms. Blake waved a little, and Erica smiled in return, though it seemed more like a baring of teeth than anything else.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Yeah, Erica’s my daughter. I’m her father.” Stiles’ obvious nerves made him seem suspicious.

Ms. Blake squinted. “Name?”

“Stiles. Stilinski. Is my name.”

“Stilinski? And you’re Erica Reyes’ father?”

Derek lowered his eyebrows at Ms. Blake’s tone. “Yeah, yes. See, Lydia- that’s Erica’s mom- well, she and I broke up before Erica was born-” Stiles stopped himself. “Sorry. Yes, I’m Erica’s biological father. Lydia got held up at work and asked me to pick her up.”

“Ok,” Ms. Blake scanned her clipboard, lifting a few pages. “You are listed as an approved party, but it says you drive a blue Jeep, not…” she waved at Derek’s car.

“I volunteered to play chauffeur,” Derek told her. “The Camaro is mine.”

“And who are you?” Ms. Blake asked.

“That’s Derek. He’s my daddy’s best special friend.” Stiles gaped and turned bright red at Erica’s explanation, but Derek just snorted. He was sure the story of Erica’s biological father’s sexual perversions would be all over the school by tomorrow. Fortunately, Ms. Blake just made a note in the clipboard and asked them to wait just a minute while she called the principal for approval.

It took her a moment, filled with semi-suspicious glances between the clipboard and Stiles, but Ms. Blake eventually got the ok for Erica, Stiles, and Derek to go on their way. “That was weird, right?” Stiles asked once they were in the car. “It wasn’t just me, that was definitely weird.”

“Totally weird,” Erica piped up from the backseat behind Derek. Stiles turned around to give her a fist bump. Erica made hers explode when she pulled away, which made Derek laugh. His laugh quickly devolved into a coughing fit; his chest spasmed and his eyes watered and Stiles had to grab the steering wheel to guide them onto the shoulder of the road while Derek tried his best to work the brake and remain conscious.

The first thing he heard when he got his breathing back under control was Stiles trying to convince Erica that she hadn’t killed Derek with her exploding fist bump. It was just a coincidence. “But you said there’s no such thing as coincidence!” she shrieked, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m ok, Erica,” Derek gasped. His throat felt raw and he sounded like he smoked six packs a day. It still felt like his lungs were on fire. Fresh sobs racked Erica’s little body. Stiles pulled her into the front seat, but she refused to calm down until she crawled into Derek’s lap and rested her ear against his chest. Stiles glanced between his daughter and Derek with an expression meant to convey how sorry he was for her apparent lack of social boundaries. Derek gave a minute shake of his head and simply wrapped Erica up in a tight hug. “I’m ok,” Derek repeated. He rubbed Erica’s back as she calmed down. Her sobs slowly trailed off into full-body hiccups, and finally stopped altogether.

“Your chest sounds funny,” Erica whispered sleepily.

“What do you mean, baby?” Stiles asked. He kept his voice low. The only response he got was a heavy shrug and eyes that refused to open. Stiles focused on Derek instead. “Did they find anything on your x-ray at the hospital yesterday?”

Derek tried not to look guilty. “I…may have left before any actual medical procedure was performed.”

“Why?” Shrug. “What if there is something really wrong? You know those people are hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt and have, like, twelve years of just school to know what to do when something is wrong-”

“Oh my God, stop.” Derek hissed. “You sound like Laura.”

“Well, your sister is incredibly wise.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“And worldly.”

“Sure.”

“And stunningly, wildly, ephemerally attractive.”

“This metaphor refers to just you now, right?”

“Damn straight.” Stiles grinned.

“Tha’s a wordy durd, Daddy,” Erica mumbled. Neither Stiles, nor Derek, could help laughing after that.

 

Laura joined them for dinner that night. Erica fell in love with her immediately, much to Stiles’ dismay. “There must be something about you Hales,” he said to Derek when they were standing at the sink, washing dishes. The girls were in the living room setting up the cards for UNO. Derek thought he heard Laura telling Erica to split all the wild draw fours between the two of them, but he wasn’t completely sure.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Stiles looked over at Derek, then Laura, before he answered. “Erica has always been a little bit…psychic.” He flipped water at Derek’s raised eyebrow. “Not psychic, psychic. Just…a really good judge of character. She knows people as soon as she meets them, but she’s never grown so attached to someone as quickly as she has to you and Laura. It’s strange. Good, I think, but strange.”

“I’ll take strange but good,” Derek said. He bumped his hip against Stiles’. “You do know Laura is teaching Erica how to cheat at UNO right now, right?”

Stiles snorted. “I think Erica is probably teaching Laura.”

Sure enough, when Stiles and Derek finished with the dishes and joined Erica and Laura around the coffee table, Laura tried way too hard to look innocent while Erica kept not-so-subtly winking in Laura’s direction. Stiles leaned across the table to stage whisper, “we are so screwed.” Derek picked up his cards to see nothing but red 3s and 4s and had to agree. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: lots of bad news in the next few chapters. Reread this one to really let the fluff fortify you. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are tremendously welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is responsible for Erica for 10 days, including her birthday. He and Derek are definitely a thing. For a little while, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I'm sorry for the emotional roller coaster of this chapter. I'll put stars after the happy part so you'll know when the sad part starts. Like this: *****

           There wasn’t an official “this is my boyfriend because we are dating” conversation. Six weeks after their fight with a happy ending, Stiles and Derek exchanged apartment keys in case one needed to get into the other’s place for some reason. It became rare for one of them to sleep alone. Erica grew as comfortable in the Hale apartment as she was at Stiles’. She even begged to camp in the living room with Laura more than once. Occasionally Derek would have to leave whatever room they were all in so his coughing wouldn’t disrupt the others. Laura and Stiles would always glance at each other, then give Derek matching expressions full of judgment and fear. If Erica were there, she would situate herself right next to Derek and refuse to move for hours.

            Laura and Derek's door flew open without warning. “Only five more days until my birthday!” Erica called out. Stiles had just picked her up from school. It was the Friday before her Spring Break, and Lydia had agreed to let Stiles keep her for the entire week, plus the weekend before and after. It wouldn’t have surprised Derek if Stiles had actually cried when Lydia approved the visit.

            “She’s never been comfortable letting me have her this long,” Stiles told Derek after dropping Erica off one night. He'd been toying with the idea of keeping Erica for a few days of her spring break, but hadn't expected Lydia to be ok with the entire week. “She said I’ve grown up a lot since Erica was born. She even apologized for keeping such a close eye on her for so long. The seizures…the thought of something happening when she’s not there just scares her so much.” Derek certainly didn’t fault Lydia for her protectiveness, but Stiles’ obvious relief and happiness made him hate her…just a little.

            “Only five days?!” Laura gasped with a smile. Erica grinned and nodded as she climbed up on the couch next to Derek’s sister. Laura quickly changed the TV to a more kid-friendly channel. She didn’t think Erica’s mother would like to hear about the newest case solved by Detective Benson and Stabler.

            “I want to have a sleepover,” Erica declared.

            “I think we can manage that,” Stiles replied. He tossed his shoes into the pile by the front door and gave Erica’s, still on her feet, a significant glance. She sighed explosively and flopped across the couch cushions. Stiles raised one eyebrow. “Very dramatic. You’ll probably win an Oscar next year for that performance.”

            “You look like Derek when you do that,” Laura observed. Stiles responded by wiggling his eyebrows vigorously. Rolling her eyes, Laura laughed and said, “Hey Erica, I think you may have some competition.” Derek came out of the bedroom just in time to witness Erica’s screamed _Not my Oscar!_ and subsequent sprawl across the carpet.

            “Are we worried?” he asked Stiles.

            “Nah, we’re rehearsing,” he corrected. Derek simply nodded and took his customary seat on the couch. Stiles joined Laura and Derek, the middle cushion was considered his by now, and leaned against Derek’s shoulder. “I need you to eat more Twinkies, there, Skeletor. Your shoulder’s digging in to my head.”

            Derek didn’t look away from the singing map on the television screen. “There are no more Twinkies,” he said.

            “Why do you always have to remind me about the greatest tragedy of our time? You know I’m still grieving.”

            Laura muttered, “And the Oscar goes to…” Stiles stuck out his tongue. 

            “So, about my slumber party,” Erica interrupted with an eye roll. All of the adults focused on the kindergartener still flat across the floor. “Three of my friends want to come over and make s’mores and tell ghost stories like me and Laura do!”

            “Ghost stories?” Stiles murmured to Laura. She just shrugged and tried to look innocent. “That sounds like fun, Catwoman,” Stiles finally said. Erica squealed and ran across the living room to give Stiles her signature tackle disguised as a hug.

 

            The day before the party found Derek feeling under the weather. He was exhausted, everything hurt-even his eyeballs, fuck- and he felt like he couldn’t get enough air. He started coughing, which woke up his bedmate. “I’m going to scoop out the stuff in your lungs with a spoon,” Stiles slurred.

            “So…sorry.” The sarcasm was drowned out amongst the hacking coughs. He sat up in the bed to try and pull in more oxygen. Stiles rearranged himself next to Derek to rub circles into his back. Once he finally got under control, Stiles carefully pressed his lips against Derek’s.

            “Better?” he whispered. Derek nodded, then leaned into Stiles’ embrace. He pushed their bare chests together to revel in the simple warmth Stiles offered. They both slept hot, so they only wore pajama pants when Erica stayed over. Right then, Derek cursed the soft cotton. Stiles pulled away to look Derek in the eye. “You look awful.” He ran his fingertips across the dark circles under Derek’s eyes.

            “You sweet talker.”

            “I’m serious. I’m never serious, but I am now.” Stiles had both of Derek’s hands in his. He wasn’t wildly gesticulating or making weird, funny faces. He was quiet. Earnest.

            Derek promised, “I’ll call Dr. Deaton later today.” Relief flooded Stiles’ features. The kiss Stiles gave Derek was chaste and quick, but Derek refused to let him go.

            "Is this ok?" Rather than answer Stiles' question, Derek gave him an open mouth kiss full of filthy promises. They wrapped their arms around each other as Stiles climbed onto Derek’s lap. Derek bit Stiles’ bottom lip, which made Stiles let out a high-pitched moan. Stiles retaliated by licking the roof of Derek’s mouth and rocking his hips down.

            “Fuck me,” Stiles groaned against Derek’s mouth. Derek let out a pained grunt as he rolled so Stiles lay underneath him. “Oh fuck, yes. Wait!” Derek froze. He had been digging in the bedside table for condoms and lube. “The door. Lock the bedroom door.” Smiling, Derek leaned over to kiss Stiles thoroughly. He filed away the whimper Stiles let out when he pulled away.

            “It’s locked,” Derek said after he jiggled the doorknob to make sure. It was Derek’s turn to whimper when he turned around, because Stiles was on his knees and one elbow, ass in the air, the arm not supporting him working lube into his hole with two fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ, Stiles,” he breathed.

            Stiles groaned. “I’ve been thinking about this for months.” His hips twitched erratically, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. “I want you every way I can have you. I want you in me-fuck!- all the time.” Derek ran across the few feet separating the bed from the door and knelt on the mattress. It dipped underneath his weight, which changed Stiles’ angle. “Shit! Yes!” His arm sped up.

            “Don’t come yet,” growled Derek. Stiles stopped moving. Goosebumps broke out across Stiles’ heated skin. Interesting. “Do you like it when I tell you what to do?” Derek crawled up behind Stiles and ran his hands across his back. Stiles nodded shakily. “I didn’t say stop fingering yourself.”

            Stiles gasped, then started moving his hips, fucking himself against his own fingers. He added a third and more lube. Derek kept petting Stiles’ back, sides, and thighs. His dropped kisses in his hands’ wake. “Let me hear you,” Derek ordered. Immediately, Stiles moaned. It was still quiet, since Erica was asleep on the other side of the apartment, but two bedroom doors and a living room would keep the sound muffled. “Good boy.”

            “Please, Derek. I’m so ready. Fuck me, please.” Derek bit Stiles’ ass cheek, but moved toward the condom lying on the sheet next to Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles kept pumping his hand in and out of his hole as Derek took his time rolling on the rubber.

            “Stop.” Stiles removed his hand instantly. “On your shoulders, ass all the way up.” Stiles folded his arms into an armrest and raised his hips into the air as far as he could. “So perfect. God, I’ve wanted to fuck you for almost a year,” Derek grated out. He spread more lube on two fingers and pressed against Stiles. With the slightest pressure, the digits sank in without resistance. “Looks like you’ve wanted me to do it for a while too.” Rather than confirm or deny, Stiles simply moaned. Derek withdrew his fingers and blew a cold stream of air across his hole to watch it twitch. He poured more lube onto his palm, then stroked himself.

            “Dick,” Stiles hissed.

            “If you say so.” Derek’s first drive into Stiles punched the air out of them both. Broken gasps filled the air while Stiles adjusted to the new intrusion. He nodded once he was ready and Derek pulled back and thrust in again, this time bottoming out. “So good,” Derek panted. Stiles, robbed of speech for once, enthusiastically nodded.

            A few teasing, slow pushes were all Derek could take. He built a pattern quickly; he grabbed Stiles’ sides, rolled his hips in even, long strokes meant to constantly press against Stiles’ prostate. Stiles moved back in counterpoint to try and get Derek deeper. They shared grunts, gasps for air, and moans as they got closer and closer. “Please, Derek,” Stiles managed to huff.

            At first, Derek didn’t understand. Stiles keened and started losing his rhythm as tears leaked from his eyes. “Derek!” he cried. Finally, Derek realized what Stiles needed. He reached around to the front of Stiles’ body and made a fist so Stiles had something to fuck into. Stiles made a choking sound as he came. He tightened around Derek for a few moments before going completely boneless.

            Stiles was incredibly sensitive after his orgasm, but it felt so good to do this for Derek, he let Derek use his body without complaint. It only took another minute or two for Derek to cry out and bite at the back of Stiles’ neck as he came. He stayed curled around Stiles until the complaints became more and more creative threats. Derek made sure he was careful as he pulled out. He tied off the condom, then wandered into the attached bathroom to flush it. Stiles hissed when the cold washcloth touched his skin, but made no other protest.

            “I’ve gotta pick up s’mores supplies,” Stiles mumbled after Derek crawled back under the covers. “You want to stay here and rest?” Derek nodded. If he was exhausted before, he didn’t know what the feeling he had now could be. “I need to get her up and ready, then. She wants to spend most of the day at the pool, so we better go shopping sooner rather than later.”

            “I’ll take her when she wakes up,” Derek offered. Stiles cracked open one eye. He studied Derek’s face for any signs of joking, but found none. It would be easier to shop by himself. No one trying to grab candy barely concealed as breakfast cereal. Well…no one _else_. Maybe he could even swing by the pharmacy to pick up Erica’s prescription early. And if he was already at the pharmacy, it would probably be wise to pick up some more lubricant. But Erica could be difficult...

            “Are you sure?”

            Derek smiled. “Yeah. I’ll make her some pancakes she can drown in syrup and we’ll watch whatever’s new on Netflix for kids while she eats. If you're not back by then, I can take her down to the pool by myself. We’ll be fine for an hour or so.”

            Stiles’ heart gave a little flutter that he decided to attribute to heartburn. “Thanks, Derek. If you want to sleep a little now, I’ll get you up before I leave.” He thought he nodded, but Derek was asleep before Stiles finished speaking.

 

 

*****

 

            Stiles couldn’t get back into the apartment’s parking lot because two ambulances and a handful of cop cars were scattered in front of his building. He was a little impatient to get back home since there was ice cream in the plastic bag next to him, and he'd left his cell phone on its charger next to his bed. As he stared aimlessly out the window, he saw a stretcher roll across the asphalt toward one of the ambulances. A flash of bright blonde hair caught his eye, and it didn’t feel like Stiles’ heart was beating anymore. “Stiles!” someone shouted. He jumped out of the Jeep to scan the small crowd gathered around the emergency barricades. If Derek was shouting for him, then he must know what happened. Lots of people in their building had blonde hair. Derek just wanted to make sure Stiles didn't worry for no reason. “Stiles!”

            The Sheriff pushed himself past a small knot of people so Stiles could finally see him. “Dad?” That wasn't right. Sheriffs weren’t usually involved in calls like this. They usually executed court orders, kept the peace at various rallies or public gatherings. Emergency services weren’t part of the gig. Unless they knew someone in the emergency. “Oh, god.” Stiles was going to puke. “What happened to Erica? Is she ok?” The lights on the ambulance cut into his skull like chainsaws.

            “She’s ok. She had a stress-induced seizure, but Laura was there and called 911. Kept Erica on her side until she stopped convulsing.” The Sheriff was a terrible liar. Stiles could always tell when his dad wasn’t telling the truth. He narrowed his eyes.

            “Try again,” Stiles ordered.

            The Sheriff sighed, looked back at the ambulances, then met Stiles’ eyes. “I swear Erica will be fine.”

            Stiles thought he heard a weird stress on his daughter’s name. “Then what aren’t you telling me?” He started putting pieces together. “Why was Erica with Laura? What stress? Where’s Derek?”

            “Stiles!” Laura’s hysterical voice cut through the murmuring of the crowd. One of the ambulances started up and sped off, siren blaring. Laura ran up to Stiles, who pulled her into a hug as soon as she was in arm’s reach. Her mascara was smeared across her cheeks and she was shaking all over. Stiles knew he didn’t want to hear whatever she was about to say. She buried her face in his neck and continued to sob. Stiles could feel his heart start up again, but this time it was pounding so fast he wondered if Laura could even hear individual beats.

            “Grandpa!” Stiles whipped his head around to see Erica sitting in the back of the second ambulance. She was wrapped in a blanket, her hair was a mess, and her eyes were as big as her face. She was absolutely terrified. The Sheriff went to her, so Stiles let himself feel relief that she was ok. His dad was an amazing cop and an even better grandfather. Erica was in good hands. But Derek…

            “Don’t tell me,” he whispered into Laura’s hair. She gripped him tighter and sobbed even harder. “Please, don’t tell me.” Tears started pouring from his eyes.

            “Stiles…” Laura started to pull away. She was breathing like she'd run a marathon. She couldn't stop crying. He tried to catch her gaze, but she refused to make eye contact. Stiles' gut was screaming at him, but he refused to hear it.

            “No!” he shouted. A few onlookers glanced over at his outburst, but he ignored them. He squeezed his arms around Laura until his muscles trembled. 

            Stiles had a strange moment of separation. Suddenly, he couldn't remember a time where Laura hadn't been in total control of herself, and it was vitally important that he come up with a single second where Derek's sister had ever been even remotely this upset. That way he could properly gauge how bad the news really was.“He…stopped breathing,” Laura wept. Stiles' blood ran cold. “Erica said he fell, knocked his head.” Laura couldn’t say anymore. She clung to Stiles like he was a life boat and she was adrift at sea, but at best he was a pair of water wings in a hurricane. He felt himself getting pulled away from everyone, sucked up into the storm.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried a little bit at my own writing. I hope that's not pretentious. I also hope I'm not the only one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry, Stiles,” Lydia replied, voice breaking on his name. She shook her head and turned to leave. There was a thud when Stiles’ knees hit the hard dirt. A choked sob.
> 
> “Lydia! Please!” Stiles screamed. She just covered her eyes with her hand and strode toward her car without even a glance behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry.

 

 

 

Screeching tires and a rumbling engine announced Lydia’s arrival several miles before she actually made it into the apartment complex. “Where is she? Where is my daughter?!” she yelled. She tumbled out of her sensible four-door sedan with the engine still running and parked in a crooked line across three spaces. "Erica!" Lydia shouted when she caught sight of the six year old bundled up on her grandfather's lap.

“Mommy!” Erica threw off the blanket one of the EMTs had wrapped her in and sprinted across the parking lot to throw herself into her mother’s waiting arms. Lydia felt a sharp pain in her knee when it collided with asphalt, but ignored it and buried her face in Erica’s neck, cradling her daughter against her chest. The Sheriff glanced at Stiles, sitting on the curb with a haunted look in his eyes and Laura by his side, and followed Erica. Maybe he could mitigate the situation while Stiles dealt with Laura. He half-heartedly called after Erica to look both ways, even in a parking lot. “Sorry, Grandpa,” came the automatic reply. “Mommy, you’re squishing me.”

Erica wriggled in her mother's grasp while making ridiculous choking noises. “I’m sorry, baby.” Lydia loosened her hold, smoothed one hand over Erica’s wild curls, and kissed her forehead. “Go ahead and get in the car, ok? Mommy needs to talk to Daddy for just a minute.”

"What are you going to talk about?" Erica asked.

"Just some grown up stuff. Come on, get in and I'll turn on the radio. Sound good?" Lydia smiled.

Erica kicked a few pebbles and asked, "Are you going to take me to the hospital?"

"The paramedics said you were ok, so we don't need to go, but I'll take you if you think we should."

"I think we should go see Derek," Erica whispered. "He hates the hospital more than I do."

"Just...just get in the car, Erica. Please." Lydia rose to her feet, not half as graceful as she normally was. She turned to the man standing behind the car and asked, “Could you help strap her in, Sheriff?” Her tone was business-like; overly formal. The two of them had gotten past any kind of formality years ago when she’d shown up on his doorstep with a suitcase, a swollen belly, and a recipe for curly fries on an index card.

Stiles’ dad narrowed his eyes and held Lydia’s gaze for a moment before he responded. The young mother had been terrified when he’d called and told her that Erica had seized and a neighbor had called the ambulance. He hadn’t been able to tell her the whole story because he hadn’t known it. Now, he could only hope that she would let Stiles explain, but the stubborn set of her jaw and defiant stare said that wasn’t going to happen. The Sheriff decided to try anyway. “It’s not his fault. This whole thing was a freak accident.”

Pain and fear and anger pulled at Lydia’s expression until she was nearly unrecognizable. Faint black lines marred her cheeks where she’d obviously been crying, her lips were cracked and bleeding- had she been chewing on them?- and bruise-purple under her eyes emphasized her worry. “What is it that you say about threes?” she hissed. “Once is an incident; like when Erica was two and I left her alone with him for the first time and she had her first seizure.” The Sheriff broke eye contact and looked down at his feet. “Two is a coincidence. Right? Like a couple of months ago when Stiles forgot to refill her prescription and she wound up in the hospital, again.”

The Sheriff glanced back up and held up a hand. “Lydia, that’s not fair,” he tried to say.

Lydia shoved his hand aside and moved in so they were essentially nose-to-nose. “No, what’s not fair is my little girl being left with a stranger and getting so terrified that an ambulance needs to be called. That’s three. Three times is a pattern. Three strikes and you're out. I can’t risk Erica’s well-being, her life, anymore.” Fresh tears filled Lydia’s eyes. She turned away from the Sheriff’s protests and wrapped herself in her rage to will them away.

The clicking of her heels echoed in the strangely silent parking lot, but Stiles still looked vaguely surprised to see her standing in front of him. “Lydia?” he slurred. He was exhausted already (and it wasn't even noon!), but he gathered the few manners he did have and asked, “Hey, how are you doing?” The red head barked out a humorless laugh that grated on Stiles’ ears. Fuck.

“Can we talk?” Lydia glanced at the woman sitting next to Stiles, but barely registered her existence. Still, the conversation she needed to have didn’t require witnesses. “In private?”

 “Uh, yeah, sure. Laura you ok?” Laura nodded and tried to smile. Lydia watched as Stiles gave Laura’s hand a squeeze and felt her lip pull up into a snarl. If this bitch was the reason Stiles was not with Erica, Lydia would make them both pay. He stood up and led Lydia around the side of the building where they stopped next to a few air conditioning units and stared at each other. Well, Lydia glared while Stiles shifted uncomfortably. The tension continued to mount until one of the units clanked on, which made Stiles jump. He laughed anxiously and blurted, “Sorry, that was just an expression of nervous energy. It doesn’t have any contextual significance.” Lydia continued her silent scrutiny with more bewilderment than rage.

“I can’t believe you did this,” she finally ground out.

Confusion pulled Stiles’ eyebrows together. “Did what?” They’d known each other since they were eight years old. His random word vomit was nothing new.

“You said you wanted to spend spring break with her, Stiles. You.”

Why was she so upset? He had been spending spring break with Erica. It wasn’t like she’d been forced on him or that he’d been lying. “I know! I have been. I did.”

Through clenched teeth, Lydia growled, “No, you had your neighbor spend spring break with her. A neighbor I don’t know. A neighbor I have never met. That is not part of our deal.”

A new fear started to pull at Stiles’ heart. He grabbed for Lydia's hands. “Hey, no. She has been with me every minute of every day.” Lydia had to know Stiles was as responsible as she thought he was. That she hadn’t made a mistake. “Derek was just helping out so I could pick up some stuff for her birthday party tomorrow. Oh, shit! Her party!”

Lydia yanked her hands out of Stiles' and interrupted before he could freak out. “If it’s happening at all, it will be at home,” Lydia informed him in a tone that left no room for argument or comment. Stiles frowned at the emphasis on the word ‘home’. “And, just to clarify, while you were shopping, your neighbor was alone with our daughter?”

Stiles felt the thin ice he was on crack beneath his feet. “Well, yeah. But he’s not just my neighbor. Laura and Derek both, they’re my friends. They’ve spent a metric shit ton of time with Erica.” God, Stiles hated when Lydia lifted one eyebrow like that. In high school he’d discovered that eyebrow meant she’d been surprised, but it was not a good surprise, and whoever surprised her was going to regret it. “No, not like... I’m saying Erica knows them! She loves them, loves Derek.” He scrubbed his hands over his head. “Fuck, I don’t know,” Stiles choked out.

Silence fell. Lydia felt all of her anger drain out of her and all that was left was the hollow fear in her gut. “How can I trust you, Stiles?” she sighed. He dropped his hands from his face to stare at Lydia. Erica’s, his daughter’s, mother. The unattainable goddess. The perfect woman. She was still mind-bogglingly beautiful- he would probably always think so- but fear and sadness ate away at the façade of perfection. Her hair was a tangled mess, make up was smeared all over her face, and there was a shadow in her eyes that put her broken heart on display. She was tired and scared and about to inflict terrible pain. He could see the remorse, but it was nothing next to the determination he sensed. Stiles felt her wrap her hand around his heart. “If I can’t trust you, this isn’t going to work.” The hand squeezed. Stiles’ breathing stopped. “Erica isn’t some DVD you’re borrowing. She is my kid. I have to know where she is and who she is with. Always.”

Panic. More blind panic. If Lydia took Erica away from him, Stiles would die. He knew it. “I-I know. I’m… God, I’m sorry,” Stiles gasped. There was no air. “You can trust me, Lydia. I swear.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Lydia replied, voice breaking on his name. She shook her head and turned to leave. There was a thud when Stiles’ knees hit the hard dirt. A choked sob.

“Lydia! Please!” Stiles screamed. She just covered her eyes with her hand and strode toward her car without even a glance behind her.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was inspired by a Gilmore Girls episode. Please review and comment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So what did my blood work say?”
> 
> “I’m sorry, Derek,” Melissa said.

* * *

 

The Sheriff was a man who valued silence. When Stiles was a child, there had been no such thing unless he was sleeping or up to something. Every parent knows the tone of silence that accompanies a toddler’s attempt at rule-breaking, and every parent learns it after discovering a wall covered in crayon doodles, a TV screen covered in spaghetti-o’s, a wet spot on the carpet, or, like one memorable Saturday afternoon in the Stilinski house, all three. As Stiles got older, new silences bloomed. The silence that fell when Stiles was out with his friends; the silence of their baited breath when waiting for the ump to determine the Mets’ fate; the silence of grief after Stiles’ mother passed away; the silence of studying for finals; the silence before an untruth passed Stiles’ lips; the silence of barely-contained tears when Stiles told him he was going to be a grandfather; the silence of heartbreak when Lydia moved out. Different silences reveal more about a situation than a thousand words ever could. The Sheriff knew how to read and manipulate silence, but a hospital is never silent.

            Constant whispers, machines beeping, elevator dings, phone calls, fluorescent lights humming and announcements over the PA system meant there would be no chance for silence while they sat in chairs slightly too small, slightly too hard, and smelling slightly of death. “How are you holding up, son?”

            Laura had been led through a pair of double doors with “Approved Persons Only” stamped across them a few hours earlier. Stiles had pleaded with, bargained with, and shouted at the hospital staff in turns until one nurse had threatened him with a colonoscopy without anesthetic. “Family only until we have more information,” the nurse told them. “I’m sorry,” she added in a soft, honest voice.

            Stiles glanced out of the corner of his eye at his dad before he returned his laser focus to the nurses’ station. “I’m fine,” he drawled. His hoodie sleeve was fraying and soaking wet from his nervous chewing and his leg had not stopped bouncing since he sat down, which he knew his dad hadn’t missed. Every time the phone rang, he tensed. So far, none of the nurses had come to him with any news. He continued, sarcastically, “Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen.” The hoodie sleeve hit the arm of the chair with a splat. “Nothing. From anyone. For hours. Not even a text from Laura. None of the codes they’ve been announcing relate to someone of Derek’s description-”

            “Whoa, whoa, wait, you know the hospital’s codes?”

            “I got bored the last time we were here, and they haven’t changed,” Stiles shrugged. The Sheriff studied his son for a moment, but didn’t comment.

            “Love you, kid,” the Sheriff finally said. He threw an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, pulled him in close, and kissed the top of his head.

            “Love you, too, Dad.”

            They stayed slumped against each other for another hour. Finally, the threatening nurse, whose dark, curly hair and deep, brown eyes belied her steely demeanor, approached them. “Sheriff?” she whispered. Stiles jerked suddenly and blinked a few times before he realized who had spoken. “And Stiles,” she smiled.

            “Is it Derek? Please, just tell me if he’s alive.”

            “He is alive, conscious, and asking for you,” the nurse said. “If you’ll follow me…” She gestured toward the doors.

            Stiles took a deep breath, then another. The nurse- Melissa, her name badge said- grabbed his hand so she could pull him to his feet before she wrapped him in a tight hug. It was only a moment, but Stiles let himself cling to her as if her hair was blonde and she smelled like “Eternity” by Calvin Klein. “Thanks,” he whispered.

            “Come on,” Melissa whispered back as she tilted her head toward the double doors.

***

 

            A little over a year after he and Kate broke up, Derek found himself alone in a hospital bed with a bandage around his head and a little girl’s screams echoing in his ears. “Ah, Mr. Hale, good to see your pretty, pretty irises,” Melissa said over the snap of a latex glove.

            She put a paper cup full of water in front of Derek before he had to ask. Derek drained it in record time and smiled gratefully as she poured a refill.

            As he sipped the new drink, Melissa shined a flashlight in his eyes, tested his memory with a word game, and changed the dressing on his head wound. “Lot of blood,” Derek commented when he saw the old gauze strips piling up on the stand next to the bed. The padding from the back of his head was completely red and soaking wet.

            “Mm,” Melissa hummed. “Why don’t you tell me what you remember about how you got all this blood from your noggin onto a bandage?” Derek hesitated. What had happened? “No judgment, cross my heart.”

            Derek gave a half-hearted smile. “I was babysitting…” he started. “Uh, Stiles’ daughter, Erica.”

            “Sheriff Stilinski’s granddaughter? Tiny, blonde, acts like she’s sixteen instead of six?”

            “That’s her. How do you know?”

            Melissa stopped redressing for a split second. “I’ve taken care of Erica a few times.”

            For a moment, Derek wondered just how often Erica ended up in the ER. “Ok,” he said. “I was making breakfast…I’ve been getting these coughing fits for a while, and I guess I started coughing when I was bringing the plate to the table. I hate when it happens in front of Erica because it really freaks her out.” Derek paused to try and put all the pieces in the right order. Melissa just waited for him to continue. “I dropped the plate, so I could grab a chair, but Erica started to cry and ran over to me. I tried to pick her up…” Derek trailed off.

            “And?” Melissa prompted.

            “Um,” Derek cleared his throat. “I tried to pick her up, but when I stood up with her, everything started spinning and I went down. I must have cracked my head against the kitchen table or something. Oh God!” He threw off the blankets and started to climb out of the bed.

            “Like hell you’re going anywhere,” Melissa barked. She grabbed Derek’s shoulder and pulled him back onto the sheets, despite his struggles.

            “But I need to find Erica. Is she here? Is she ok?”

            “All I can tell you is that of the two ambulances sent to your apartment building, the only one who came back with a patient was yours. The other driver said his patient did not require hospitalization.”

            “So she’s ok?”

            Melissa smiled. “She’s ok.” Derek sighed in relief. “But I am worried about you. I’m going to go and get your test results from the lab, and I’ll be right back, ok?” She patted Derek’s chest on her way out.

            Melissa had only been gone a few minutes when the door to Derek’s room blew open, and Laura barreled in with a different nurse. “Derek!”

            Laura threw herself onto his chest and cried into the paper-thin hospital gown. He didn’t cry, but it was a close thing. “I’m ok,” he whispered against her temple.

            Eventually, Laura calmed down enough to tell Derek what happened after he hit his head. “Erica came downstairs screaming and crying, it was awful, Derek. She told me you hit your head and to call two ambulances,” Laura’s voice broke. “I asked her, ‘why two?’ and she told me she could taste blood. Th-then she collapsed.”

            Derek pulled Laura back to his chest and smoothed her hair.  “I’m so sorry, she’s ok, I’m ok, it’s ok,” he repeated over and over again.

  

            Laura was still curled up in Derek’s bed when Melissa came back. Her expression was pinched, eyes sad. “What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

            “This may be news you want to hear in private, Derek,” Melissa replied. Laura glanced between her brother and Melissa as she sat up.

            “Derek?”

            The news couldn’t possibly be that bad, surely. Derek pulled Laura back down so her head rested on his shoulder. “No, it’s fine. She’s my only family, so I’d have to tell her anyway,” he said.

            “Damn straight,” Laura added.

            Melissa cleared her throat. “Well, you remember a few months ago when we did some blood work?” Derek and Laura nodded. “One of the tests came back with some unusual results, so we had to do some more thorough analysis.” Melissa kept her gaze on the chart in front of her and refused to make eye contact. “The definitive results came in a few weeks ago, but the number on the contact sheet is out of service.”

            “Ow! Dammit, Laura, that hurt!” Derek yelled. Laura had smacked him in the chest. She knew he’d written a bogus number on purpose. The Hales returned their attention to Melissa. “So what did my blood work say?”

            “I’m sorry, Derek,” Melissa said. Every muscle in Derek’s body tensed. “You have tested positive for HIV.”

There was no air in the hospital room. “What?” Derek asked flatly.

            “I also had a doctor order a genotypic resistance test that shows the strain of virus present in your system does not respond to standard drug therapy,” Melissa continued. “There are a few clinical trials…” Melissa continued speaking, but Derek couldn’t hear her. The clamoring in his head, the questions without answers that clawed their way into his mind, the strange whistling sound in his ears all drowned out the nurse’s words.

            He looked down to see Laura’s eyes were as wide as his own, but she was nodding at something Melissa was saying. Then she said something back, like there was something to say. Like a conversation could be taking place when Derek had just been handed a death sentence. “I-” he started to say, but he had no follow up.

            “I think my brother and I need a few minutes to talk,” Laura said. Melissa gave them a sad smile before leaving. After she left, it was several long moments before Laura spoke again. “I’m going to kill Kate Argent.”

            Derek had come to the same conclusion. He and Kate had broken up for a few weeks back when they’d lived together, but he’d never seen any hint of another man. He hadn’t thought much about protection once they’d reconciled. They were in love. They were supposed to be together forever. Eternally faithful. He wanted to cry, kick, scream, rip her throat out. Something. Instead, he wrapped Laura in a tight hug and held on for dear life. He felt like if he let go, he’d fall off the face of the Earth.

            “You’re still my pain in the ass little brother,” Laura whispered. She had her face mashed into the front of Derek’s hospital gown, so the words were muffled, but Derek felt them against his chest and took comfort from them.

 

***

            Laura’s phone beeped periodically as she and Derek sat in silence, each consumed with their own thoughts. “How many is that?” Derek asked.

            “That’s the eighth text message in the last five hours,” Laura replied.

            “What am I supposed to say to him?”

            “The truth.” Laura shrugged. This was one situation she couldn’t take over and make it better. “He needs to know, for his own health if nothing else.” Derek nodded. “I mean, I don’t know who was whose little pony, but…”

            “Oh my God, Laura!” Derek shoved his sister out of the rickety bed and took great pleasure in her squawk and subsequent curses.

            “Perhaps that attempt at humor was misplaced,” she said from the floor. She winced. Cold linoleum does not make a soft landing area.

            “You think?”

            “I said I’m sorry!”

            “No you didn’t!”

            “You know what I meant!”

            Before the argument could get more heated, Melissa came into the room. She had been poking her head in every hour or so, had changed Derek’s bandages once, but this was the first time her patient hadn’t appeared catatonic. “Everything ok in here?” she asked.

            “Yeah, everything’s fine,” Derek replied. “Could you bring Stiles back here?”

            Melissa nodded and gave a polite smile, but Derek swore he heard a muttered, ‘Oh thank god,’ as she left. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen months after Kate moved out, Derek found himself in a hospital room explaining to his new significant other that he may have given him HIV. Thirteen minutes after Stiles got the news he still had not spoken. He was sitting in the chair next to Derek’s bed and staring out the tiny window with a blank expression.

Thirteen months after Kate moved out, Derek found himself in a hospital room explaining to his new significant other that he may have given him HIV. Thirteen minutes after Stiles got the news he still had not spoken. He was sitting in the chair next to Derek’s bed and staring out the tiny window with a blank expression. “Say something. Please,” Derek said.

 

“Like what?” Stiles replied.

 

“Anything. That you hate me, you’re scared, we should see other people.”

 

Stiles turned his head to meet Derek’s eyes. “Is that what you want? For me to break up with you?” His voice was strained.

 

“No, of course not. But I can’t ask you to stay… not after this.”

 

Stiles took a deep breath, then another one. “When my mom was in the hospital, my dad basically lived here,” he said. “So I basically lived here. I would go days without seeing my house, my bed. I would get so mad at my parents for keeping us here. A few years later I asked my dad why he watched her shrivel up, why he made me watch.” Stiles paused to make sure Derek was listening. “He told me no matter how hard it was for us, it was our responsibility to show my mom that we loved her and she wasn’t alone.” Stiles’ voice cracked. Derek squeezed his hands as tightly as he could. “My mom never asked for us stay. She never had to.  Get it?”

 

Derek cleared his throat before he replied, “Got it.”

 

Stiles smiled. “Good.”

 

After a few minutes of soft, goofy smiles, Derek asked, “So where’s Erica? Melissa told me she was ok. I thought for sure she’d tear in here before you did.” Stiles paled and his whole body went rigid. Derek’s heartbeat picked up, fear prickled at the base of his skull. “Melissa wasn’t lying, right? I didn’t hurt her?”

 

“No, she’s fine,” Stiles said woodenly. “Lydia picked her up so I could come see you.”

 

That was definitely not the whole story. Stiles leaned back in his chair with a forced air of nonchalance. He crossed one ankle over the opposite knee and jiggled his leg while covering his mouth with his hand. “That was nice of her,” Derek said carefully. Stiles nodded but refused to make eye contact. “But she’s bringing Erica back before her party, right? She was so excited.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes and shook his head quickly. “Nah. We, uh, we weren’t sure what was wrong with you, so we-“ he interrupted himself to cough. “We decided to move the party back to Lydia’s. Make things, you know, easier.”

 

“Easier?”

 

“Yeah, easier. Less difficult. With more ease. Easier. I’ll see her after.” Stiles waved a hand through the air. “Anyway, what are we going to do with you? I bet Laura’s already researching the hell out of your treatment options.”

 

Derek narrowed his eyes, but let Stiles change the subject. Something was wrong, wrong enough for Stiles to lie outright instead of just talking around the truth. He’d allow Stiles some time to come clean once he realized Derek was sick, not fragile. Whatever had happened was his fault, so he’d make it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Sorry for the delay.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment! Those make me happy.


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